All in the Eyes
by YellowWeather
Summary: When Wally West gets caught in an attack on Dick Grayson, they take from him something he didn't think that he could live without. Will this be the end of Kid Flash?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Wow. Its been so many years since I've been on here. I looked back at some of my** ** _old_** **stories and they're awful. Like actually, so bad. I'm still not much of a writer (that hopefully comes with more practice), but I have way too many ideas and the Notes app on my phone is getting a little crazy, so I figured that I should put ideas here instead.**

 **This is set at some point between the arrival of Artemis and Zatanna. I know this first bit is short, but I should have the next bit up within the week so stay tuned!**

 **Thanks for reading!**

CHAPTER 1

"No way in hell!"

"I swear, dude. Cross my heart and hope to die, she kissed me right here." Wally pointed to his freckled cheek, blissfully recalling the pretty girl he had rescued earlier that day.

"Wally, technically she kissed your suit, not you. Your cowl covers that part." Snickering, Dick wiped his lip with a napkin,"and she doesn't even know what you look like. If she did, she might not have-"

"Hey!" Wally shouted indignantly around a mouth full of pepperoni pizza. Swallowing, he continued, "She could totally see enough. Besides, it's all in the eyes."

The boys were sent into a fit of laughter as Wally comically wiggled his eyebrows. It had been nearly a month since the two had gotten together outside of missions, and they wasted no time catching up. Bruce Wayne and his ward were forced to flee the Gotham due to a series of violent threats after Bruce exposed a money laundering scheme in a tangent of Wayne Enterprises. Bruce did not scare easily, but there had been a few calls closer than he'd liked and when paper threats showed up in Dick's school locker—well, let's say a vacation in Sweden seemed overdue. Now that the drama had ended, the teen duo had finally reunited.

The humorous banter continued throughout their meal. Wally, who had already eaten a rather large dinner before the outing, ate nearly 3/4ths of the large pizza, and only stopped upon noticing the sideways glances of the waitstaff. The two often visited this restaurant when together. People here generally minded their own business and, although the pizza was by no means fantastic, it was certainly good enough. Wally was sure that if they ate here one more time, they waiters would have their order memorized. After the food disappeared, Dick placed a generous tip on the table and the boys stood to leave.

•••

Despite the obvious lack of sun, Dick had worn his usual dark glasses. This was one of the few places where the ward of Gotham's Playboy Billionaire had yet to be recognized, and he was hoping to keep it that way. Dick knew that the shades served little protection from those who were looking closely, but he could walk with confidence around the more casual paparazzi—which is why he was mildly off-put by the man sitting alone at the table in the corner. He seemed to be reading lightly from the weekly paper while sipping coffee, but every so often Dick would glance past Wally and catch him staring at back. Or at least he thought so. It was entirely possible, Dick thought, that the man was simply looking curiously at the boy wearing sunglasses in a dimly lit pizzeria. It was strange, but was it strange enough to warrant such interest? One might come to conclusion that the teen was blind, or perhaps suffering light sensitivity before considering a celebrity trying to hide from prying eyes. This time it just didn't seem to be the case. His cover had been blown.

Too bad, Dick thought as they exited, I was really starting to like this place.

"—and then Roy threw the biggest fit I have EVER seen. It was incredible"

Torn from his verdict, Dick joined Wally in musing over Roy's antics. While it was usually awkward to be in the room with Ollie and Roy simultaneously, it did occasionally produce a strange sort of comedy gold. The guy knew how to throw a tantrum. It is a lot like how—

Suddenly there was a flash of bright light and a blur of dark fabric. Feet scuffling. Heavy breathing. A hit to the ribs and a face full of dirt. A voice shouted above him, another screamed. And then, as abruptly as it began, it ended.

Except not really. Dick strained his eyes through the dark. The flash of light had sent colorful splotches swimming in his vision. His brain pounded against his skull as he tried to move, to lift his head from the ground. He could see Wally standing above him, but something wasn't right. He was shivering violently, and pawing at his face. Then, over the torrential noise in his ears, Dick heard hiccuping gasps coming from his friend.

They had just been attacked.

•••

Burning. Flames licking, gnawing. His face, his hands, his arms, all burning. Seconds, minutes, hours stretched on as fire danced across his body, ripping him to shreds.

Wally coughed out a strangled cry as he choked on the air that wouldn't enter his lungs. Awoken by the heat, a beast began to writhe violently within his stomach. Growing and spasming and clawing until it suddenly erupted through Wally's mouth: a scream so raw, so agonized and fearful, that it might have been the sound of his soul tearing from his body. Nothing existed but sharp lashes of blazing heat. There was no Wally West, no Kid Flash, just white hot pain.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Hey! Thanks to those who have read and reviewed! I really appreciate the support.**

 **Just an** **IMPORTANT** **heads up, I've decided to change the setting to just a few days after the events of New Years (the end of season 1).I updated chapter 1 Authors Note to suit this, but the convo between Wally and Dick doesn't quite fit the setting. Maybe I'll go back someday to fix it, but it's not an essential part of the story so y'all will just have to deal haha.**

CHAPTER 2

"Wally?"

He woke to the echo of a familiar voice. It seemed to come from deep within his subconscious rather than entering through his ears.

"Wally, can you hear me?"

Dad. It was his voice, soothing and warm, and—exhausted? Something in it was gravely and raw, like the way it sounds the morning after working the late shift at the Plant.

"Wally, it's time to wake up now." There was definitely exhaustion, but also something else. Sadness? No, not quite. Unease? "Can you—can you say something?"

Yes. Unease. But why? The thought that he was late for school briefly crossed his mind, but it was quickly discarded upon realizing that it had just been New Years and there was a whole 3 days of break left to enjoy, and he intended to make the very most of it. Sinking back into his mind like an old sofa, he thought of snowball fights and hot chocolate and Artemis and—

"Wally?"

He tried again for a reason, but it seemed just out of reach. Like the tangents of his mind could brush up against it, but in doing so only nudged it farther away.

So, new plan.

Wally willed his body to move, to speak, to open his eyes, anything, but the incredible effort died the moment it left his brain.

Oh, c _ome on!_

If he could smack himself, he would. It honestly felt like if he tried any harder he'd explode, yet he wasn't even rewarded with a twitch of the finger.

How rude.

It wasn't until weight settled on his arm that Wally could begin to make sense of his puddle of limbs. There was a stiffness to his joints, and a strange tingling that crawled across his skin. Now that he thought about it, his face itched, and his hands did too. So did his neck and his was this wild urge to scratch but god, did that feel dangerous.

Trying again to shake off the heavy quilt of slumber, he heaved a deep breath. Several gasps seemed to echo him, adding a whole new layer to the perplexing circumstance at hand.

Who knew watching me sleep was so entertaining? Wally wished he could have rolled his eyes at that one. But seriously though, who else is here?

As if to answer the question, his mother spoke up, a note of hesitancy seeping through a tone that Wally supposed was meant to be comforting, "Wally, I'm here. It's okay. We're here."

But where is 'here'? And what's 'okay'? He shivered as the slightest bit of clarity began to trickle into his mind. He tried prying open his eyes, but it felt as if they were glued shut. Wanting to rub at them, he began to raise his arm but was swiftly caught by a strong hand.

"Hey you can't touch that, buddy. "It was his uncle speaking this time.

Touch what? And buddy? Why is everybody talking to me like I am 2? Or stupid? Or— wait, am I dying? Ha no, _that's_ stupid. The questions spun about in his head. It seemed impossible to remember anything specific. He desperately wanted to ask, but couldn't find the words.

Wally rubbed his tongue across the roof of his mouth, absently noting that it felt funny. The skin on his face felt like it was pulled taught across his nerves were telling him that he was both hot and cold at the same time, causing a sensation not unlike vertigo to settle in his core. There was pain. Not bad, but there were dull throbs in his cheeks and up and down his arms. But why? How? Where am I? What happened?

Panic flickered in his stomach.

He didn't know.

He couldn't remember.

He couldn't remember, and he couldn't move, and he couldn't see and there was a beeping noise, and it was getting faster and _faster_ and the quicker it went the more he panicked and people were shouting and blood was racing and air was thinning and he was spiraling and falling and thrashing and drowning and being stabbed all over and-

The world slowed, and all became quiet.

•••

He was injected with a strong sedative. Strong enough, most likely, to kill a horse, but they knew that with Wally's metabolism it would only put him back under for about an hour. This wasn't the first time Wally had woken up in a frenzy of fear and frustration. Barry had seen him like that many times over. More times than he would like to admit. Something about the way a speedster's brain fires faster than light speed doesn't mix well with the uncertainty and confinement within their minds.

Barry turned and nodded to the woman in doctors' attire. No one in the right mind would administer such a large dose to a patient, which is why the situation called for outside help: Dr. Leslie Tompkins, the preferred medical expert and secret keeper of Bruce Wayne. He watched as she stepped away from the hospital bed, once again revealing Wally's wrapped face.

Mrs. West sobbed and turned in to her husband, whose face was quite red and horribly scrunched up. Barry wanted to reach out, to tell them that it would be okay, but his normal optimism got caught in his throat. This didn't look good. This didn't look good at all.

"Let him rest a while more," Dr. Tompkins said from behind the group, causing heads to swivel. "Then we will try again."

And they did.

•••

One thing was for sure: Batman was not going to rest until every last one of them was so deep in prison that it would be years until they saw the sun, and many more than that before they breathe free air. He had thought it was safe—well as safe as usual—when he'd brought Dick back to Gotham. Police believed that they had rounded up the Batman and Bruce Wayne confirmed weeks there had not been so much as a whisper about the money laundering. The dust had settled and what ever was left standing had been dealt with by the GCPD.

Apparently not.

He scowled, looking out at the city below him. Gotham was quiet that night. He had intervened on a few muggings and a break in, but little of dire significance. He hated nights like these, they gave him too much time and to think.

It could have been Dick. It would have been, had the men had hit their target. It was too close. Robin's life was constantly under threat, but Batman was prepared for that. On the occasions that Robin was not fighting at his side, he knew that his partner was more than capable. Batman trusted his partner more than many of the members of the league. The boy could more than hold his own.

But Dick? That was a different story. Dick was his son. His was in danger for so many different reasons. Dick was smart and responsible, but you can't battle off aggressive paparazzi with punches and birdarangs. Stalkers can be reported, but if Dick Grayson fights off a band of kidnappers with the same skill as Robin, someone would surely connect the dots and it would all be over. For both of them. And dangers like that weren't because Dick chose to bear the cape and cowl of a hero, he was in danger because of Bruce. And had Dick almost paid the price for it.

Almost.

The Dark Knight's scowl deepened as his thoughts wandered to his son's closest had never fond of Wally West. Sure, he seemed like a good enough kid, but he was obnoxious and irresponsible. Reckless. He couldn't contain himself. Nearly everything about the red-head set off alarms in his head. He couldn't be Bruce forced himself to tolerate the boy because Dick saw something worthy in him, and Dick he _could_ trust. That, and because he was kin to Barry Allen, a man he respected at the very least.

But what that kid had done—he didn't know how to feel. He should be grateful, but he just felt angry. Some rational part of himself recognized that the anger was to fend off some feeling of guilt. This happened because Wally West, a speedster and science geek from Middle-Of-Nowhere Nebraska, hit it off with Dick Grayson, the much adored ward of Bruce Wayne. Wayne, who beyond the usual dangers of being a celebrity, had made himself even more of a target by taking on white collar crime. It wasn't Batman's fault, it was Bruce's. And Bruce, unlike Batman, was vulnerable.

A car honked loudly from the streets below him.

He knew the public wanted a statement about the incident. People hunger for a good story. But it wasn't just a random stranger saving his son. It was Dick's best friend. Commending him as a hero to a bunch of greedy reporters seemed almost insensitive to their curious bond. Bruce would have to give a more personal account, but that would intrude on the relationship between the boys. It wouldn't be fabricated, but the press would undoubtedly run with it, scraping together a tear jerking piece telling of two best friends who would do anything for each other. It was true, but the public can't know that. A best friend to Dick Grayson is liable to many threats similar to what his ward faces. It would throw Wally directly into the public eye, which can be a great deal of unwanted attention, especially if that person doubles as a superhero.

It was unlikely that Wally had been careful enough about hiding his extracurriculars, Bruce thought dryly, rubbing his temples. The boy had a big mouth. For all Batman knew, Wally could have told somebody about his super speed. Any person could be the wrong person, the one to trade a little too much information for a moment of fame. And a hero can't continue with a compromised identity. But that hardly matters for the kid now, he reminded himself. Wally may still be alive, but Kid Flash? Kid Flash is dead.

The Dark Knight rose from his crouched position on the rooftop and migrated to the other side of the building. He briefly tossed around the idea of not saying anything at all, but quickly decided otherwise. He'd seen that one go wrong too many times. Not sharing forces the control from your hands and gives it to several questionable witnesses who alter the truth and before you know it the attack was carried out by a band of gorillas on tricycles. It would be blown wildly out of proportion, and likely have the same damning results.

A frenzy of voices came to life over the police radio. An alarm was tripped at the jewelers shop between the 9th and 10th Avenues on Bridge Street. Thankful for the distraction, Batman fired a grappling hook at a neighboring building. He pulled on the wire, testing its hold. There are no good options, he concluded, as he stepped over the building's edge.


End file.
